SCENE II.

MEANWELL, MOTH.

MEAN. If what I speak prove false, then stigmatise me.

MOTH.[144] I was not what you mean; depardieu,[145] You snyb[146] mine old years, sans fail I wene[147] you bin A jangler[148] and a golierdis.[149]

MEAN. I swear By those two Janus' heads you had of us, And your own too, as reverend as those, There is one loves you that you think not on.

MOTH. Nad be, none pleasaunce is to me ylaft,[150] This white top writeeth much my years, i-wis, My fire yreken is in ashen cold.[151] I can no whit of dalliance: if I kissen, These thick stark bristles of mine beard will pricken Ylike the skin of hound-fish. Sikerly[152] What wends against the grain is lytherly.[153]

MEAN. Methinks y' are strong enough and very lusty, Fit to get heirs: among your other pieces Of age and time let one young face be seen May call you father.

MOTH. Wholesome counsel! But The world is now full tickle[154] sykerly; 'Tis hard to find a damosel unwenned;[155] They being all coltish and full of ragery,[156] And full of gergon[157] as is a flecken[158] pie. Whoso with them maketh that bond anon, Which men do clyppen[159] spousail or wedlock, Saint Idiot is his lord, i-wis.

MEAN. This is No tender and wanton thing; she is a staid And settled widow, one who'll be a nurse Unto you in your latter days.

MOTH. A norice[160] Some dele ystept in age! So mote[161] I gone, This goeth aright: how highteth[162] she, say you?

MEAN. Mistress Joan Potluck, vintner Potluck's widow.

MOTH. Joan Potluck, spinster? Lore me o' thing mere Alouten: what time 'gan she brendle thus?

MEAN. On Thursday morning last.

MOTH. Y' blessed Thursday, Ycleped so from Thor the Saxon's god.

Ah, benedicite! I might soothly sayn, Mine mouth hath itched all this livelong day; All night me met[163] eke, that I was at kirk; My heart gan quapp[164] full oft. Dan Cupido Sure sent thylke sweven[165] to mine head.

MEAN. You shall Know more, if you'll walk in. [_Exit_ MEANWELL.

MOTH. Wend you beforne; Kembeth[166] thyself, and pyketh[167] now thyself; Sleeketh thyself; make cheer much digne,[168] good Robert: I do arret thou shalt acquainted bin With nymphs and fauns, and hamadryades: And yeke the sisterne nine Pierides That were transmued into birds, nemp'd[169] pyes Metamorphoseos wot well what I mean: I is as jollie now as fish in Seine. [_Exeunt._